However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart,
immediately threw himself into the current, without consulting his
companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste to be
on the other side, and to climb towards the north. It had been impossible
to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter prepared to
follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. "Do you want to cross the channel?"
he asked. "Yes," replied Spilett. "All right!" said the seaman; "wait a
bit; Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we venture into the
channel, we risk being carried into the open sea by the current, which is
running very strong; but, if I'm not wrong, it is ebbing. See, the tide is
going down over the sand. Let us have patience, and at low water it is
possible we may find a fordable passage." "You are right," replied the
reporter, "we will not separate more than we can help."

During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He
was crossing in an oblique direction. His black shoulders could be seen
emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also made
way towards the shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from the
islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet from the
place which was opposite to the point from which he had started.

Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself
vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon disappeared behind a rocky
point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern extremity of
the islet.

Neb's companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety, and
when he was out of sight, they fixed their attention on the land where
their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which the sand
was strewn. It was a wretched repast, but still it was better than nothing.
The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the south by a very
sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation, and was of a very wild
aspect. This point abutted on the shore in a grotesque outline of high
granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened, and a
more rounded coast appeared, trending from the southwest to the northeast,
and terminating in a slender cape. The distance between these two
extremities, which made the bow of the bay, was about eight miles. Half a
mile from the shore rose the islet, which somewhat resembled the carcass
of a gigantic whale. Its extreme breadth was not more than a quarter of
a mile.

Opposite the islet, the beach consisted first of sand, covered with black
stones, which were now appearing little by little above the retreating
tide. The second level was separated by a perpendicular granite cliff,
terminated at the top by an unequal edge at a height of at least 300 feet.
It continued thus for a length of three miles, ending suddenly on the right
with a precipice which looked as if cut by the hand of man. On the left,
above the promontory, this irregular and jagged cliff descended by a long
slope of conglomerated rocks till it mingled with the ground of the
southern point. On the upper plateau of the coast not a tree appeared. It
was a flat tableland like that above Cape Town at the Cape of Good Hope,
but of reduced proportions; at least so it appeared seen from the islet.
However, verdure was not wanting to the right beyond the precipice. They
could easily distinguish a confused mass of great trees, which extended
beyond the limits of their view. This verdure relieved the eye, so long
wearied by the continued ranges of granite. Lastly, beyond and above the
plateau, in a northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least seven
miles, glittered a white summit which reflected the sun's rays. It was that
of a lofty mountain, capped with snow.

The question could not at present be decided whether this land formed an
island, or whether it belonged to a continent. But on beholding the
convulsed masses heaped up on the left, no geologist would have hesitated
to give them a volcanic origin, for they were unquestionably the work of
subterranean convulsions.